Saturday, July 4, 2015

Michael Running Elk slammed on his brakes as
the familiar gleaming black 4X4 blew the stop sign in the center of town and
swung wide, nearly hitting the front of his beloved old green pickup. Pretty
boy Blackhorse was on the rampage again. Made him wonder what had happened this
time. Usually it was his father-in-law telling him his funds were cut off
because he’d blown a month’s allowance in one night of gambling. But the
direction he was coming from made it seem more likely that his ex had told him
to fuck off. And it wasn’t often that Lee Blackhorse, as sweet tempered and
good-natured as she was, told anyone to fuck off.

Mike drew a deep breath and frowned after
the speeding 4X4. It was barely past ten in the morning, and it looked like the man was drunk
already, driving wild and crazy. If he wasn’t careful, he’d pile that bright
shiny truck into the ravine someday. Might serve him right, at that. The
bastard had worked his way through half the women on the res in the past couple
of years.

The
thought of Lee Blackhorse made him swing the wheel left and head down the highway toward her place a couple of miles down the road. It was too early to
do the chores yet, but she probably needed a shoulder to cry on about now.
Maybe she would cry on his shoulder.

Nope. More likely she would just have him
clean the stalls. As for the crying on his broad shoulder, he wished she would.
At times he wanted to just grab and shake her and haul her upstairs to her
bedroom. But he respected her too much for that. God knew he had thought about
that woman more than was decent, her being the highlight of a great many of his
very graphic, favorite wet dreams. God, but he wanted to make a move. Problem
was, he was scared shitless of having her laugh at him. He was not some hot
stud like her ex, and he worked hard. He worked with his back and his hands.
No. She was all class and grace…not for the likes of him. No education to speak
of. You didn’t need a four year college degree to know good horseflesh. And his
dad had taught him all about running his own place. The two years he’d spent
learning to do books and how to stitch up and treat animals had given him the
rest of what he’d needed. But it hadn’t given him the polish and pretty manners
that Lee deserved in a man.

But somehow his truck ended up stopped and
idling on the shoulder of the road a couple hundred feet from her driveway, as
he watched her sitting on her porch, hunched over and…crying? He swore under
his breath, and they weren’t pretty words. The self-important prick must have
been out here asking for more money. From the looks of it, things hadn’t gone
well. He clenched his fists around the steering wheel, debating on what he
should do. What he wanted to do was walk up to her and kiss her silly. But what
she would accept was probably something quite different, so he simply pulled on
into her driveway and climbed out of the old truck, slamming the door to let
her know she had company.

Lee heard the truck and hurriedly swiped at
her tears, not wanting Mike to see her crying. Mike Running Elk was a good kid,
one of the most polite and helpful in town. He came by every Saturday like
clockwork to clean out her barn, mow her wild and woolly lawn, and fix whatever
needed fixing around the house. She paid him the pittance of $50 a week to help
out around the place for a few hours, but she knew he would have done it all
for free. He didn’t need the money. He earned a decent living running his own
horse ranch. He probably made as much in one hour training horses for others as
she could afford to pay him for his help, but he good-naturedly accepted her
small payment and her thanks, as well as a sandwich and soda. And Lee enjoyed
his company.

Bless him, she didn’t want to let him see
her tears.

He’d been helping her around the place since
way before Howard and she had split. Back then, he had needed the cash to help
pay off his dad’s funeral bill and help support his mother and brothers. He had
been helping out for over twelve years.It seemed he understood how much she welcomed the help. And she certainly
did. Working a full time job with the school district left little time for the
chores that Howard once did, before he’d started drinking so much he slept all
day.

She sniffed and made certain there were no
tears still on her face when she turned and smiled up at him. “Hi, Mike!
Look…I’m a little short today…so I’m sorry that you made the trip out here for
nothing. I would have called but…” she shrugged. Butthe reason she was short on cash was driving back to the bar to
spend the ‘truck payment’ he’d just borrowed. Of course, Mike didn’t need to
know that. She fished a ten out of her pocket and said, “Here’s money for the
gas you spent coming over today. Take this Saturday off.”

Mike stared down at her slim hand and the
wrinkled ten dollar bill. He calmed the sudden need to follow the man who’d
made her cry like this and ram a few fists down his throat. Instead of cursing
viciously, he lifted his hat and ran a lean hand through his dark hair before
settling the battered Stetson
back onto his head. “No problem, Ma’am.”

He winced. He had planned to call her “Lee”,
but he’d blown it again. How the hell was she ever going to realize he wasn’t
the kid she always thought him to be if he kept calling her “Ma’am”? He
swallowed hard, hesitated for a few moments, hoping she would change her mind.
But she avoided his gaze, and pretended to find something on the step beside
her completely riveting. Come on,
idiot…say something!

“No need for gas money. I was driving this
way anyway.” Still she didn’t lift her face to look at him. “Look…I have
nothing to do today but kick my heels. The hands have the ranch taken care
of.I’m goin’ around to the barn and you
can pay me later. Or better yet, you can cook me up some of that great stew you
make. We’ll figure something out…” He left the innuendo hanging, but she didn’t
seem to pick up on it.

When she simply shrugged, he sighed and
headed around the side of the old house to start the usual simple chores he had
been doing for her since he was 18. He swore under his breath. The chore he
wanted so desperately to do for her was out of the question. She would have a
damned cow if he did what he so eagerly wanted to do, and dragged the woman
into her house to fuck her until they both fell in a heap, unable to move or
think.

He glanced down at his hands and clenched
them into fists. She would be horrified if he put those calloused hands on her…in her…the way he wanted to. He pulled
his work gloves out of his rear jeans pocket and tugged them on. But even if
she didn’t mind his callouses and his rough skin, what the hell would she want
with a guy who was about as polished and gentlemanly as a horned toad? That
slime ball she had married was the kind of guy she wanted. Slick, smooth, and
able to talk a woman into about anything. Shit! She still wanted the bastard,
or she wouldn’t let him keep coming back.

With a snarl of frustration, he grabbed a
pitchfork and stabbed the nearest open bale, and started slinging hay over into
the feed bins to the waiting yearling heifers.